


Tales of Vivereia

by prototyping



Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Violence, Zombies, characters/details to be added as I go, the au nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: A college student and a rookie cop meet by chance on a violent night that quickly goes from bad to worse. As they search for answers and familiar faces, the odds of survival continue to stack against them--horrific monsters lurk around every corner, as do fellow survivors. [Sorey, Alisha; zombie AU.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, _surprise_ , this AU is based heavily on the game(s) _Resident Evil 2_ \--but while there will be a lot of identical situations, familiarity with the RE canon isn’t at all necessary to follow along. On that note, this fic will parallel some endgame plot points in RE2, so it's best to skip this for now if you want to avoid spoilers! (I feel like RE2/Zestiria fans are such a tiny niche group but _I like to be careful_.)
> 
> And no, I have no idea what I’m doing with my life anymore.

It was close to midnight when Sorey pulled into the gas station, a tiny building on the otherwise empty stretch of road. There were only three pumps out front and half of the small lot was dimmed by shadows, the rest illuminated by what flickering fluorescent light made it through the store windows.

He killed the engine and lights and for a moment only sat there, rubbing his eyes and appreciating the sudden silence. He was making a straight shot between cities and it was catching up with him; five hours of dry plains as far as the eye could see really took its toll.

“Almost there,” he reminded himself. He sounded as tired as he felt, but even that couldn’t kill the determination in his tone. In less than half an hour he would－hopefully－have some answers, or at least be a lot closer to them than he had in the last two weeks.

The night was silent as he stepped out of his car, the summer breeze heavy but soundless, the atmosphere lifeless in that way abandoned places always seemed to give off.

Not that the station was deserted－there were three other vehicles, including a police car－but he could have believed it at a glance. The lights in the building were dim, most of them either off or burned out, but he didn’t give it a second thought as he made for the door and dug his wallet out of his jeans pocket. Spontaneous road trips tended to cross with seedy places. As long as he could get his gas and be on his way, he couldn’t complain.

He cast a brief glance to the west, frowning at the distance that still remained between himself and the skyline. He was hopeful, and mostly positive that his concern was unfounded, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried.

Tugging distractedly at his light jacket, he pushed those thoughts aside and kept going.

The door jingled as he pushed it inward.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. For an instant he began to disregard it as the stench of gasoline, but as the door closed behind him and cut off the fresh night air, the odor thickened in his nose until he could taste it on his tongue and he frowned, in confusion as much as disgust. It was a rotten smell mixed with a tinge of something metallic.

The second thing was the stains. He felt something underfoot, looked down, and squinted in the low light at a dark puddle. Oil? It had spilled all over the white tiles in front of the counter. It was streaked across the floor, winding around the first shelf as though something had been dragged through it.

Lastly, he noticed the state of the store. Two shelves were lying on their sides, food and magazines littered around and underneath them. No one was behind the counter－or anywhere else.

His mind working, Sorey looked at the floor again, put two and two together with the odd copper smell in the air, and flinched.

Not oil. _Blood?_

His stomach turned. Had the store been robbed? Violently, if so. He took an instinctive step back, chest tight as his eyes swept the room again, but everything was as still as death.

He needed to call the police, now. He hadn’t noticed a payphone outside－not surprising in a janky little place like this－but he could book it and make for the city. But what about that squad car parked out front? Where was－

A clanging noise made him jump. It was muffled, as though it came from another room－and sure enough he quickly spotted a door in the far corner, ajar and dark.

The smart thing to do was continue with his first plan－get out, notify the police－but even as he took another step back, he hesitated. That was a _lot_ of blood. What if each of the cars outside belonged to victims? That was at least three people who could be injured or dying, who might need attention now and couldn’t wait another hour for an ambulance.

He noticed a flashlight by his foot and quickly snatched it up. It still worked. A brief swipe over the stains confirmed that they were a dark crimson in color, not black, and still glistening. Still wet, still fresh.

His frown deepened. Surely whoever had done this was long gone by now－or they’d also been hurt in the scuffle. It seemed unlikely that a robber would be waiting at the scene of a crime for someone else to come along, if they could help it; so after another few seconds of debate, Sorey shoved his common sense aside and let empathy push him further into the store.

The blood stains didn’t end in the front. It wasn’t as messy, but there were still heavy drops of the stuff leading towards the back, following more destruction that looked as though a bull had charged through the aisles.

He moved as quickly as he dared and as quietly as he was able, stepping around the debris to make his way toward the back. When he rounded the last shelf, he was taken by surprise: there was a figure crumpled against the wall near the backdoor. Forgetting his unease, Sorey hurried forward and dropped to his knee.

“Hey! Can you hear me? Are you－” His voice caught when he noticed the man’s clothes－a striped shirt and name tag that said he was the station employee, half of which was soaked in blood. He was such a mess that it was hard to tell where it all came from, but his shoulder looked particularly worse for the wear. His head hung towards his chest and he wasn’t moving. Sorey touched the clean side of his neck to search for a pulse and found none. With a pounding heart and disappointed hiss he stood up.

_Unreal. This is crazy. Why would－_

Another clang from the open door, followed by a wordless cry－a man’s voice－that instantly spiraled into a bloodcurdling scream, and then melted just as quickly into faint gurgling.

That and the corpse at Sorey’s feet gave him pause, but despite his shock and fear it also spurred him onward. He knew what Mikleo would do if he were here, and while Sorey considered himself to be a poor substitute for someone who definitely knew what he was doing, he was all these people had at the moment. If the one responsible _was_ still around... Sorey didn’t have a detailed plan－his nerves weren’t letting him think that far ahead－but he wasn’t exactly small in stature. In the best scenario he could put the disarming techniques Mikleo had taught him to good use; in the worst, his heavy flashlight could serve as a weapon. 

Unlike the front of the store, there wasn’t any light at all coming from the back room. With his flashlight in one hand, he braced the other against the door, held his breath, and quickly pushed it open.

It didn’t creak, at least. He slipped into what appeared to be a small hallway, where the blood stains stopped. At the end of the short corridor was another door, wide open and equally dark. As he approached, the beam of his flashlight shone into the next room and caught movement. He hurried forward through the door, only to stop dead as his voice caught in his throat.

He knew what he was looking at, but it took several long seconds for his brain to switch from denial to stunned realization. On the floor of the storeroom were two people, one lying flat while the other leaned over him－but after a moment Sorey realized the top one was moving, his head whipping back and forth as wet, sloshing noises and snarls issued from where his mouth was fixed on the second person’s neck－a police officer, his face stuck in a wide-eyed expression as blood pooled out around his head－

“Wh－” The sound was out before Sorey could stop it. The man’s head immediately whipped up and he wished it hadn’t: the face was a bloody mess, crimson caking the lips and streaming down the chin, red-and-pink pulp caught between bared teeth－

Sorey stumbled backwards. Reason and morbid curiosity could wait. Every ounce of common sense he possessed was screaming at him to turn and run back the way he’d come. He didn’t think twice.

Spinning on his heel, he took off, only to skid to a hard halt two steps later. The employee－the _dead employee_ he’d seen just moments ago had followed him, and now made towards him at a stiff, shambling pace, bloody arms outstretched, jaw slack, and head rolling on his shoulders.

Behind him, the other man was on his feet and approaching at the same speed. He was trapped.

_Don’t panic. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t－_

Part of him considered the possibility that this was all an elaborate joke in poor taste.

Another part of him was too smart for that, too grounded in all the red flags that his senses and gut were throwing up－and had read too many horror stories as a kid to know when action was better than words.

To his right were several plastic crates filled with cans of beer. He pulled the nearest one closer with his foot, lined it up, and kicked to send it sliding towards the stumbling employee. It connected hard with his shins, and while he didn’t so much as flinch at the contact, he tripped and hit the floor with a hissing groan.

Sorey didn’t miss a beat. He vaulted over him and out of the hallway, bolting back up the aisle and through the store, for the front door－

－and gave a startled shout as another shelf tipped over in front of him, the deafening crash sending his heart into his throat even before he saw the person clambering over it, another wild-eyed stare and mutilated face－

He narrowly dodged grasping fingers and went around, hand outstretched for the glass door－he reached it, shoved it open－

－and froze in place as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

His adrenaline-laced brain scrabbled for words. “Don’t sh－!”

_“Get down!”_

He recognized that kind of tone and didn’t question it. He dropped to his hands and knees immediately, wincing as a gunshot exploded only a couple feet from his head. There was a grunt behind him, a wet-sounding _thud_ , and he glanced over his shoulder to see one of his dead-but-not-dead pursuers on the floor.

Panting hard, he looked up and could have sighed in relief: the woman standing in front of him looked wholly human and undoubtedly alive, his first sign of normal in what suddenly felt like forever.

“You okay?” she asked. She didn’t lower her weapon, but it wasn’t pointed at him, either.

“Yeah,” Sorey breathed as he stood up. “Thanks－” That moment of relief evaporated as he caught sight of the parking lot behind her. The same slow, clumsy gait, lolling heads, and mindless groans－there were at least a _dozen_ people approaching the store, the closest only yards away and closing in. “...You’re kidding me,” he hissed.

The woman stood close on his left and raised her gun again, training it between two of the nearest figures. “The white car on the right,” she said quickly. “When I say go, run for it.”

It didn’t look like Sorey had a choice. “Right.”

“Ready－”

One of the people lunged.

_“Go!”_

The gun fired again as Sorey took off. He twisted to avoid a second attacker who staggered towards him; a third came close but a bullet snapped her head back and put her down. They were slow, thankfully, and he made it to the passenger side of the car with distance to spare, yanking open the door and dropping into it in a huff. The woman was only a second behind him and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut and revving the engine and shoving the shift into reverse all while balancing her gun and the wheel in one hand. The car jerked backwards, swiveled－there was a sickening _thump_ as it struck one of the people－and then peeled out of the lot and onto the road, heading west.

Sorey stole a glimpse behind them and saw their pursuers giving slow chase, only to be left behind on the horizon in seconds. He let out the breath he’d been holding and settled back into his seat.

“Thanks,” he repeated breathlessly. “What _was_ that?”

With his heart rate finally slowing down, his brain processed more about his sudden ally than he’d managed to notice before. She didn’t look much older than himself, fair-skinned and serious-faced, with eyes hardened into a solemn look that didn’t fit their bright color. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and her wavy bangs brushed the bridge of her nose as she spared him a glance.

“I don’t know. I’m hoping they’ll have answers at the police station.”

Sorey stared openly at her now. She was dressed as casually as he was－a light pink jacket, khaki pants－but that level tone, easy authority, and impressive marksmanship were suddenly telling.

“You’re－with the police?”

She nodded. “Alisha. I’m sorry about what happened back there. I put you in a risky situation.”

He almost laughed, but his heart wasn’t in the effort. “Seriously? You got me _out_ of it. I’m not sure what I would’ve done by myself.” Ended up like that man in the backroom, for starters. “I’m Sorey,” he added belatedly, doing his best to shake that gruesome memory away for now. “So, uh… you’ve really never seen anything like that?” It was kind of a dumb question, he immediately realized, but Alisha shook her head.

“Never. It’s like something out of…” She trailed off with a frown.

“A bad movie?” he suggested, but that made her frown more deeply. It was his turn to shake his head. “I don’t believe it, either, but…” He looked out the window at the night sky, which didn’t feel nearly as peaceful as it had a little bit ago. “Whatever it was, it… wasn’t a joke,” he finished quietly. The scream of the dying officer, his eyes forever frozen in terror… That visual was still jarring, always would be, because he was certain it had been real.

She hummed her agreement, and for a few minutes they sat in thoughtful, grim silence. As much as Sorey hoped those images would fade as they moved farther away from the gas station, he found it harder and harder to think about anything else.

Finally, looking in part for a distraction, he asked, “So, you’re from the city?”

“No, I live outside of town. I…” She breathed in quickly, and then out just as sharply. “I was just recently hired, actually. I was supposed to start a few days ago, but I got a call from a superior telling me to wait. I was worried when no one returned my calls, so…”

“So you decided to investigate.” This time Sorey did laugh, if only briefly and dryly. “We’re in the same boat, then. My brother works for the police, too, but I haven’t heard from him in a while. Thought I’d come see what was up.”

Alisha stole another brief look at him, but then only tucked her gun away inside her jacket. After that pause, she replied coolly, “We can ask around when we get there. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s…”

“Fine.”

“Yes. Fine.”

Sorey would have believed it an hour ago, but in the wake of what they’d just seen… He didn’t know what to think anymore. Despite Alisha’s attempt to remain professionally stoic, he was willing to bet she felt the same.

* * *

For the next twenty minutes he did most of the talking. Alisha didn’t seem to mind, and actually appeared to relax the more he spoke, so Sorey did his best to keep their eyes forward and their minds preoccupied.

He told her the full story of his road trip: how the last he’d heard from Mikleo was a voice message a few weeks ago, saying he planned to be busy for a while and wouldn’t make or take many calls. It had seemed weird at the time, and when that silence stretched on, Sorey became more and more uneasy. He tried calling the station several times, but there was always some excuse or another－Mikleo was out, Mikleo was busy, Mikleo wasn’t available. Sorey called Rose, one of Mikleo’s teammates and a good acquaintance, but she, too, had gone radio silent. He didn’t suspect anything as drastic as foul play－only that Mikleo wasn’t telling him something.

“But I mean, if crazy things are happening like what we just saw,” he reasoned, “it would make sense that everyone’s hands are tied.”

“I think so, too. But it’s strange that there hasn’t been anything in the news. As far as I’m aware, there haven’t been any reports of anything unusual in the city.”

Sorey crossed his arms with a hum. “Maybe it’s some internal thing. Mikleo always says the politics involved are a real pain.” Of course, that didn’t account for the apparent undead.

“We’ll see soon enough,” Alisha assured him. Right on cue, they passed another road sign－ABALL 5 MILES. Neither of them spoke much after that.

The city was quiet when they pulled in minutes later. There was nothing of interest at first, until Sorey realized how strange that was in itself: there was literally nothing. Cars were parked along the street like normal, but he hadn’t noticed a single pedestrian thus far.

Right as he opened his mouth to say so, Alisha turned the corner and his words never made it out. The road was suddenly a mess: cars were backed up everywhere, even on the sidewalks. Some were overturned, others on fire.

Shop fronts were smashed. A destroyed fire hydrant spat an angry stream of water into the air. The entire block seemed to be without power.

“What on earth…” he heard her breathe. She slowed down as she maneuvered through the chaos, taking care to squeeze between cars and avoid as much debris as she was able. Sorey noticed an echo outside and cracked his window; immediately a voice flooded the car, crackling with the static of a speaker.

“－police advise everyone to remain in your homes. Emergency supplies will be available for distribution. Please remain in your homes and await further instruction－”

“Some kind of citywide emergency,” he murmured.

“But－why? It’s as if this whole area is isolated－this should be all over the－”

“Alisha!”

She followed the direction he was pointing and inhaled sharply. On the side of the road was a group of some half a dozen people, kneeling in a circle with their heads lowered. As the car’s headlights flashed over them, one looked up, and even from here the blood matting his hair and the skin peeled back from his face were obvious.

“Here, too,” Alisha breathed in disbelief.

They kept driving. The further they went into the city, the more people they saw－all of them in the same mindless state. What started as a light drizzle of rain quickly turned into a drumming downpour, but the walking corpses weren’t deterred from their idle stumbling about.

Sorey switched on the radio and searched the channels, but he only found national stations and static. The local stations were nowhere to be found.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He turned it off again and went back to staring out at the dismal streets. Alisha had fallen silent for now.

Eventually the cars choking the road became too thick to proceed and she pulled to a stop. Sorey watched her uncertainly, but she was staring out the driver’s side window and didn’t immediately speak up.

“The police station isn’t far from here,” she said finally. She turned back to him. “I’ll ask about your brother, but you need to leave. Take this car and go back the way we came－”

“Wait, you’re thinking of _walking_?”

“It isn’t far,” she repeated, but Sorey shot her an incredulous look.

“But those－things are out there－”

“We’ve seen that they’re slow, and I’m armed,” she said evenly. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll go with you.”

It was her turn to look skeptical. “No. You’re a civilian－”

“And the only living one around here, by the looks of it－”

“Sorey, I can’t put you in…” She went quiet, suddenly squinting at him. “Do you hear that?”

He blinked. Now that she mentioned it, there was an odd, rumbling sort of sound. They both glanced through the windshield－nothing－and then the back window, and together they tensed.

Barreling down the street behind them was a semi-truck. It had to be doing at least sixty, knocking cars aside as though they weighed nothing－and while it drifted drunkenly between lanes, it was still headed towards them.

Alisha recovered first. _“Get out!”_ There was a terrifying moment of wrestling with their seatbelts, throwing the doors open, breaking into a desperate run－Sorey didn’t know how much distance he managed to put between himself and the collision, but the noise of the impact was deafening. It sounded like an explosion and felt like a physical blow to his head. He stumbled but stayed upright, pushed himself to keep going, as metal screamed and glass shrieked behind him. Only when he reached the sidewalk did he finally turn around－just in time to watch the truck skid and tip over, and just long enough to catch the strong scent of gasoline as sparks flashed beneath the crumpled hood.

The heat and noise of the explosion was unbelievable. He was thrown off his feet and into the brick building behind him－avoiding the glass window, at least－and slumped to the ground in a mess of white noise and red light and his body aching all over.

He couldn’t have said whether he was knocked out or just dazed, but those swirling colors faded to black and then back into color and suddenly his ears were working again. He pushed himself up, his ringing head assaulted by the roar of flames and the cacophony of several car alarms going off. He had to lean against the building as the rest of his senses recovered, eyes closed and stomach rolling and sore knees threatening to give out.

Between that and the pounding rain, he didn’t notice he had company until he heard a moan right behind him.

He spun around and stumbled backwards, barely avoiding the rotting fingers reaching for his shoulders. This one wasn’t as messy as the others, but it was clearly the same: dead eyes, split skin, limp posture. Sorey turned on his heel to run, but something slipped out from under his foot and he stumbled－and this one might have been faster than the others, too, because that was all the time it needed to lunge forward and crash into Sorey, knocking them both to the ground.

Sorey caught his bearings first and none too soon: teeth audibly snapped as he pushed the person back by his shoulders. He tried to shove him off, but those dead fingers closed around his biceps like a vice. The stench of rot hit him like a smack in the face and he struggled not to gag. His attacker continued to fight back, head bouncing and jaw clacking and eyes rolling back in his head, and it was all so surreal and gruesome that Sorey’s strength nearly gave as fear formed tight in his chest, cold and crippling－

The rotten head suddenly snapped to the side with a grunt, a red hole appearing in its temple. A second later the rest of him went limp. Stunned in place, Sorey didn’t hear the footsteps or the voice until they were right on top of him.

“Sorey!”

Alisha shoved the corpse off of him with her boot. “Sorey! Are you okay?”

Fresh air replaced the smell of death and with it came life back into his limbs. He sucked in a hard breath as he sat up, nodding despite the throb at the base of his skull. “Yeah. Thanks to you, again.” She offered a hand and he took it. Once on his feet, he didn’t dissuade her from giving him a concerned once-over, but he frowned when he noticed the bloody cut above her eyebrow. “You’re hurt?”

“It’s nothing. How about you?”

“I’m fine, really.” By now his brain was in proper working order again and he looked around, assessing the situation. Alisha’s car was now a mound of charred, twisted metal. They were alone at the moment, but more figures lurked further up the street. He pushed his wet hair back from his face and asked, “You said the station’s near here?”

Alisha finally backed out of his personal bubble, convinced he wasn’t hiding any injuries. “Yes. And I guess it’s the safest place to take you, now that we have to walk.”

Sorey nodded. “Let’s get going. I don’t know if the zombies are attracted to all this noise, but I’d rather not find out.” He caught the look she gave him at the word _zombies_ and raised both eyebrows. “What?”

“N-Nothing. It’s…”

He flashed her a grim half-smile that he didn’t really feel. He got it. Actually saying it out loud sounded ridiculous, but it also made the impossible a little more real－as if it wasn’t already real enough. “Lead the way, Alisha.”

* * *

Going on foot was nerve-wracking, but at least it was fast. Roadblocks and stopped traffic weren’t the same issue they would have been in a car, and outrunning the zombies was easy enough as long as they were careful not to corner themselves. Alisha had a good sense of direction－despite only having been to the city twice before and all the destruction that made much of it unrecognizable, she only rarely needed to pause and double check her surroundings before pressing onward. She kept wiping at that cut above her eye until her sleeve was stained a deep red, and continued to dismiss his concern.

Sorey followed along obediently behind her, trusting her guidance and simply acting as a second pair of eyes to spot any danger. The rain had them both soaked to the bone by now, but at least the night was warm for September.

They were keeping to the shadows of a tall office building when Alisha suddenly held up a hand. He stopped and followed her gaze: across the street was a patrol car, its front end wrapped around a telephone pole. The driver’s side door was open and in the seat was an officer, slumped over the steering wheel and unmoving.

Something about that made Sorey’s chest tighten－a cold reminder of Mikleo, perhaps, and the fact that Sorey had no idea if he was safe. Some of it was guilt, as well, as he felt a selfish wave of relief when he noted the uniform wasn’t the same as what Mikleo’s team wore.

“Stay here,” Alisha whispered, but he shook his head.

“It’s too open. It’s best if we stay together.” It was also too far for him to feel comfortable warning her in time, should someone pop out of a hiding place somewhere.

She debated that for a couple seconds before nodding, and then motioned him after her.

They crossed the road in a crouch, using cars for cover against the zombies wandering nearby. She stole a brief glimpse into the backseat when they reached the police car, and then moved up to the officer’s corpse. She studied it for a moment, her face grim, and then pressed a couple buttons on the door. He heard a click.

“Check the trunk,” she told him. He moved around to the back to do so, glancing quickly left and right before hauling it open. It was nearly empty－there was an open first aid kit, its contents scattered and scarce. Sorey made quick work of filling his jacket pockets, figuring it was better safe than sorry.

As dark as it was, he almost missed the one other item in the trunk: what looked like a military-grade hunting knife, about as long as his forearm from the tip of the blade to the bottom of the handle. He withdrew it from the sheath as he moved back around the car. “Hey, Ali－”

A loud snarl made his heart jump into his throat, as did her low cry of surprise. She fell back from the car as the dead officer lunged at her, arm flailing－but his seatbelt held him in place. She was already up again when Sorey reached her, now holding what must have been the policeman’s gun. “I’m okay－”

They both jumped as the zombie’s thrashing activated the car horn. Almost immediately there was a gurgling reply all around. Sorey felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up even before he looked over and saw every visible zombie looking in their direction. The officer continued to flail and growl and strike the horn.

“Alisha－”

She caught on. “Let’s go.”

They took off at a run, but the street was already littered with cars and debris and the encroaching zombies were clogging what pathways remained. Sorey and Alisha clambered over the hood of a car to bypass a large group, only for a shrill car alarm to pierce the night and probably attract those who hadn’t already been drawn by the previous noise.

The number of them was gut-wrenching. Sorey had tried not to entertain the horrible possibility that the entire city was like this, but even then he hadn’t really thought about how many people that would actually be. The encroaching figures were like a slow, steady wave on all sides, and more than once he felt a touch ghost over his sleeve.

They rounded a corner only to skid to a halt as they came upon some two dozen more zombies, who immediately began lumbering in their direction. Alisha raised her gun and opened fire, four shots to take out the three closest to her.

“Look for a way through!” she called without looking back.

His heart racing from exertion as much as fear, Sorey quickly took in the area. They were caught in an L-shaped bend of a road. While there was no shortage of buildings nearby, he stifled the urge to try their luck with the closest one as the risks flitted through his mind like a rapid slideshow. There was no guarantee the doors were unlocked, or that the two of them wouldn’t just corner themselves somewhere by leading the mob after them, or that there weren’t more zombies inside waiting. He needed to calm down and think. He only had seconds but he needed to figure out the most logical path, not the most obvious.

He tried to ignore the incessant groans and the gunfire and the roar of the rain as he looked for some way, _any_ way－

_There－!_

Before he could speak, he realized the gunfire had stopped. He looked back to see Alisha rapidly reloading her weapon, all while the stream of zombies kept approaching, stumbling over the corpses of the fallen. Her hands were fast, but not fast enough: one of them dove for her. She smashed the butt of her gun into his mouth to knock him aside, but another immediately took his place and latched onto her arm before she could pull it back.

Up until that point, Sorey still had reserves about the knife still clenched in his hand. Now he moved without thinking, pulling his arm back and letting the blade fly with a trained eye that proved true: it buried itself in the zombie’s left eye socket, snapping its head back. Alisha reacted instantly and tore herself free, backpedaling to Sorey’s side even as she shot him a stunned look. He ignored the unasked question and pointed across the street.

“That way! Red building, fire escape!”

She followed the gesture, saw it, and yelled for him to get moving. As they neared the alley, Sorey realized the ladder wasn’t nearly as low as it had appeared at a distance. Undeterred, he forced his tired legs to go faster, pulling ahead of her. “Get ready to jump!”

He slid into a crouch beneath the escape and linked his fingers together. Alisha landed the step perfectly and he tossed her up; she caught hold of the ladder and pulled herself up onto the landing, and then immediately turned to lower it for him. Iron shrieked as it lowered about an inch－and no further. He heard her hiss between her teeth as she threw all of her weight into the release switch this time, but it still didn’t budge. She stepped back and kicked it. Nothing.

Sorey looked back. The entrance to the alley was already completely blocked. Overhead, metal continued to clang as Alisha desperately attacked the ladder; at the other end, a tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. He only had seconds until the group reached him, but giving ground might cut him off from the ladder permanently.

He took one step back, two, fists tight at his sides as he wavered between common sense and the possibility that Hollywood had been wrong about the one-bite-is-all-it-takes cliche. Even if it had, getting eaten alive wasn’t a better alternative.

The air in the alley already reeked of death. It seemed to stick in his throat and his eyes watered, adding to the panic swelling in his chest. He took one last step back, just outside of the closest zombie’s reach, and was about to turn and take his chances with the fence－

－when the ladder finally fell with a bone-shaking clang.

“Sorey!”

He dashed for it. Luckily the zombies had slow reaction times; hands brushed his sleeves and rancid breaths rolled past his face, but he wrenched away and held his breath and then jumped for it, slamming into the ladder and spinning himself around to the front side with the momentum. He climbed as fast as his sweating palms were able－and lurched to a hard halt as something latched onto his leg.

By the time he looked down, a bullet was already tearing through the offender’s head. He shook off its limp fingers and kept climbing; Alisha seized a handful of his jacket and helped pull him up and over the railing at last.

They didn’t cast another glance at the crowd of corpses accumulating below. With Alisha leading the way they made hastily for the roof, a four-story scramble that neither of them could complain about after the narrow miss just now.

* * *

It took a few minutes for them to catch their breaths. The roof was, mercifully, devoid of any undead, and even the rain had calmed to a tolerable drizzle. Alisha seated herself on an idle heating unit while Sorey just collapsed on his back, panting hard.

Once he didn’t sound like he was on the verge of passing out, Alisha inquired, “How are you holding up?”

He gave an optimistic grunt. “Just… a minor heart attack… nothing time won’t fix.”

“Good. I’m sorry about the close call.”

“Don’t be. I made it thanks to you.” A pause, then, “Sorry if I sound like a broken record.”

She shook her head lightly. “I’m glad to help.” At least she’d been able to save _someone_ here so far.

They returned to silence. Alisha wiped at her bleeding eyebrow again and checked her gun, holding back a frown. She had ten bullets left, plus a handful in the second gun she’d taken off the officer’s body. She couldn’t afford any more unnecessary fights.

She looked over at Sorey, thinking for nearly half a minute, and then stood and made her way towards the edge of the roof. She could see the station from here, a notable building with a clocktower sitting about three blocks away. She was starting to doubt her initial belief that it would be a safe location, but having come this far, it was worth looking into. At the very least, she could send out an emergency distress call－although it was strange that no one appeared to have done so already.

She heard Sorey come up behind her. After another few moments of contemplation, she turned back to him. “That’s the station there. It might be best if you stay here, just in case it’s compromised. If I find help, I’ll come back for you.”

“And what if you don’t?”

She met his level stare with one of her own. There _had_ to be someone else alive－and the odds of survival favored the police. That was what she wanted to tell him, but she didn’t want to patronize him by being overly optimistic. “Then I’ll come back for you, anyway. Assuming those things can’t climb, this is the safest place someone can…” She watched him draw his jacket sleeve down over his fist, and then reach up to wipe gingerly at her forehead.

“You’re still bleeding pretty bad,” he told her. “How about we get you cleaned up before you go running off anywhere?”

As much as she wanted to get going right away, she knew his suggestion was sound. She didn’t need to risk being blinded at the worst possible moment.

A moment later they were seated, Sorey emptying his pockets of the supplies he’d apparently swiped from the police car. There wasn’t any kind of disinfectant, unfortunately, but the bandages were much better than nothing. Alisha stayed perfectly still as he started dabbing at the edges of her cut with a towelette, apologizing anytime he made her wince.

“You’re fine,” she assured him. “I should have taken care of it sooner.”

His next exhale contained a hint of a laugh. “You seem like the kind of person who’s a little too hard on herself.”

Alisha avoided his eyes. “...In some ways, maybe,” she admitted, knowing full-well what an understatement that was. She saw his smile quirk in the corner of her eye, but he didn’t comment further. “Where did you learn to throw a knife like that?” she wondered, recalling her earlier surprise. “There’s no way you’re that lucky.”

This time he did chuckle openly. He tore open a bandage and answered, “I grew up… kind of out in the boondocks. You know how you do dumb things for fun when you’re a kid? Well, for me and my brother, that included target practice in the woods with some old combat knives we found one day.” He brushed her bangs back from her forehead with one hand, careful and casual, and gently applied the bandage to her skin. “Our family has a lot of old relics,” he went on with a sheepish smile. “We figured no one would notice if we borrowed them now and again, and we were right.” He leaned back and inspected his work for a few seconds, finally nodding. “I think you’re set.”

“Thanks.”

Their attentions wandered away from one another, but neither moved to get up just yet. On Alisha’s end, she was trying to decide what to do with him. As reluctant as she was to take him back down into the streets, there was no guarantee he would be totally safe up here. As long as he remained quiet, maybe nothing would wander up the nearby stairwell from the building below－but if something did…

“Alisha?” He looked concerned.

Maybe she was going about this all wrong. He was a civilian, but she didn’t have total authority over him－especially in a situation like this, where it was anyone’s guess what the best course of action was. It wasn’t as though he had been dead weight so far, either.

“I was just thinking,” she replied. “I still want to get to the station. And I want you to do what you think is best for yourself. I’m not sure there’s anywhere that’s really safe, so… I shouldn’t tell you what to do.” She glanced over at the clocktower in the distance. “I’ll be fine by myself if you want to stay here. But if you’d rather come, I won’t turn you down.”

Sorey was frowning thoughtfully, staring down at his hands. “I don’t want to make you double-back for me,” he said after a few seconds. “But I understand I’m a liability－”

“It’s not like that,” she began, but he waved her off with a grin.

“It’s okay. It’s not personal. It’s just… I imagine it’s harder to protect two people than just one, huh?”

Alisha couldn’t deny that. As good as it was to have someone watching her back, having him along meant she was constantly watching him as well as herself. “It… can be,” she conceded. “But we’ve come this far and done alright.”

“I don’t want to weigh you down. But… I don’t want you or anyone else fighting your way back here if you don’t have to. Not when there might be more survivors out there who need help.” Breathing in deep, Sorey nodded, as if settling on his answer. “I’ll go with you. But… if there’s any way I can help, tell me.”

Respecting his decision, Alisha didn’t hesitate to nod in approval. “Alright. Then if you’re rested enough, we should get moving.” They climbed back to their feet and returned to the roof’s edge, scanning the streets below. Their most recent group of pursuers was still congregated around the alley, which was good. Only a few stragglers were in the way of where they needed to go.

She and Sorey only needed a minute to map out their course, as well as any emergency routes. If all went well, they would be able to make a more or less straight shot through the next two blocks.

“Shall we?” he asked, once they felt confident in their plan.

“Mm,” Alisha hummed, but she didn’t move just yet. After a short pause she looked up at him and found him waiting, curious but patient, and it made her second-guess what she was about to say. Just for a moment. “Sorey－do you know how to shoot, by any chance?”

He blinked in surprise. “No. Well… just BB guns as a kid, but that was forever ago.”

Alisha picked up the spare gun from where she’d set it aside before, holding it in both hands. “I think we’ll be fine, but… in case something happens, I don’t want you to be defenseless. Do you think you could handle it?”

She expected him to cheerfully assure her that he could, so she was surprised when he hesitated, visibly troubled as he stared at the weapon. “If you’re uncomfortable,” she said slowly, apologetically, “you don’t have to.”

After a moment more, he shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’d be best if I’m not totally dependent on you.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t have to fend for yourself,” she promised him. “But… just in case,” she repeated. “You should at least have it on you.”

When Sorey didn’t answer right away, she only waited. Finally, he drew another deep breath. “Okay. Right.”

“Honestly, if you can aim that well with a knife, you’re pretty well off already.” She turned the gun over and pointed to the small switch near the back. “This is the safety. I’m turning it on, so this is how you turn it off if you need to.”

She took a few minutes to run over the basics of how to hold it, what to expect when (if) he fired it, and a couple other safety precautions. They didn’t have any extra ammunition, so she glossed over reloading, figuring the odds of him needing to know that much were slim. For now, they just needed to get to the station.

Once he seemed confident, Alisha shrugged off her jacket, removed the chest holster from her shoulders, and passed it over to him. “You’ll have to adjust the size, but it’ll fit. I don’t think I’ll be putting my gun away anytime soon, so…” The remark was meant to sound lighthearted, but it failed. “This way you won’t have to worry about holding it.”

Minutes later they’d carefully made their way down through the apartment building－finding only corpses, some lifeless and others not－and out onto the street. She was impressed with how well Sorey was handling the circumstances, all things considered; as new as she was to her job－which she still technically hadn’t started－she had little experience to speak of when it came to the more gruesome aspects of life, although she had at least been warned and trained for them. Civilian though he was, Sorey hadn’t panicked, passed out, or had any of the number of negative reactions that he rightfully could have in response to all this death, as well as the element of supernatural impossibility that hung over the entire situation.

Granted, people reacted differently to shock. There was a chance this would all catch up with him later, in a very bad way.

For now, making sure he had a _later_ was Alisha’s responsibility.

Their trek went well to start with. There was plenty of cover to duck behind, and the few individuals－zombies－who caught sight of them were easily outrun. The pair made it a block over with no incident, which was an accomplishment at the slow rate they were forced to move.

A construction site cut across their path next. The road that went around it was clogged by a nasty-looking pileup, a mess of flames and overturned cars and wandering figures that looked too dangerous to risk. The smell of gasoline was particularly strong in that direction. Keeping the lead, Alisha led them into the site.

It was the foundation of what looked to be a new office building. They had to pick their way carefully around the abandoned equipment, minding their steps over holes and steel beams. As they went, the sound of heavy footsteps and idle moans grew louder, but there wasn’t a person to be seen.

The other side of the lot ended in a concrete wall too tall for them to see over, but at the far corner sat a wooden scaffolding. With no ladder to be seen, Sorey gave her a boost up onto it and Alisha quickly climbed up to take stock of the next area.

It wasn’t good. The small side street below that ran parallel to the wall was cordoned off by roadblocks, and with good reason: a huge chunk of it was missing. It had been dug out, perhaps as an extension of the construction site, and essentially resulted in a large, muddy pit. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but it was packed with zombies－at least thirty, she guessed, stumbling into each other in the crowded space. They had probably fallen off the edge of the road, with the sides of the trench too steep to climb out.

Chewing her lip, Alisha looked for another route. On her left, the main road was close enough for her to feel the heat of the fire, reminding her of the danger there even if it hadn’t been cut off by a tall fence; other than that, it seemed they’d hit a dead end. There was a chance she and Sorey could jump from the very edge of the scaffolding to the main road, but that was a big chance that wasn’t worth taking, even if she assumed they could both stick perfect landings and not break a leg.

“Not this way,” she called down to Sorey. “Too many hostiles.” She couldn’t help a short, quiet sigh, but she shoved her annoyance aside. Now wasn’t the time to get frustrated at bad luck. She needed to focus. “If we head back towards－”

She felt the impact before she heard it. A wave of scorching hot air rolled over her like a suffocating weight, knocking her a step backwards－and then for the second time tonight, the sound of an explosion made her head ring. She was vaguely aware of the smell of oil and hot metal, barely registering the sight of one of the cars on the road going up in tower of flames as it tumbled end over end, toward the edge of the construction site below.

She tried to call out to Sorey in warning, but everything happened too fast: the flaming car careened off of the road, through the fence, and into the concrete lot. There were sparks, the roar of crunching metal, the gut-wrenching realization that it was skidding straight for them－

Alisha’s feet were thrown out from under her as the car struck the bottom of the scaffolding, effectively folding it in half. She dropped, and for a horrifying second she assumed she was falling towards the flames－but then the harsh orange light was gone and there was only the sky above her－

Her landing hurt, but it was softer than she expected, and cold. She coughed as the wind was knocked out of her, but ignored her spinning head and forced herself up, sitting and then standing, momentarily confused by the mud coating her arms.

Somewhere beneath her daze, she realized where she was. Her blood ran cold. She whirled around to find herself facing a countless number of empty eyes, all locked onto her with fixated interest.

Her right hand gripped her gun tighter, but she already knew it would be a waste. Even if she landed ten perfect headshots, that left her with nothing for the other two dozen attackers.

All at once the zombies started towards her, slowly, as though they knew she had nowhere to run. Alisha backed up against the edge of the pit, searching frantically for anything at hand, but there was only mud on all sides.

The first zombie came within arm’s reach. Alisha ducked under its hands and slammed her shoulder into its stomach; it groaned as it was knocked backwards, taking several other zombies with it to the ground. She did the same to the next one that came too close, but even then one managed to snag her sleeve and nearly took her down with them. She was debating using up her last bullets anyway when a glint of color amidst the crowd caught her eye: sitting stuck in the mud was one of the orange-and-white striped roadblocks, knocked down from the road above.

Alisha didn’t think. There wasn’t time for it. Without her holster, she could only shove her gun into the waistband of her pants－a Hollywood maneuver she would _never_ endorse normally. She threw herself forward onto her hands, dodging another zombie’s grapple, and then took off from her position like a runner. She couldn’t get the momentum she wanted, having to sidestep and shove zombies aside, but it was enough: she leaped, planted both feet atop the center of the roadblock, and then jumped again, straight up, arms stretched for the edge of the trench.

By some mercy in the universe, her fingers caught asphalt. Normally she would have doubted her ability to pull herself up from a straight-arm position like this, but adrenaline and desperation were on her side. She kicked away the dead hands grasping at her ankles, and kicked off of a rotting skull for a boost; she dug her knees into the mud wall and dragged herself, inch by inch, gasping and growling with the effort, until she was up and over the ledge and back on solid ground. She made it onto her hands and knees and for a moment stayed there, inhaling the fresh air as deeply as though she’d almost drowned.

* * *

Sorey had a similarly close call. The moment that car came crashing into the lot, his body tensed up and prepared to move－but his mind hesitated, conscious of Alisha’s vulnerable position. In the split-second he had to choose, he went with common sense and bolted out of the way, and not a second too soon: he felt the heat of the flames and the ground shake as the car rumbled passed with hardly any room to spare.

The concrete wall stopped it, but the scaffolding Alisha was standing on crumpled under the impact. It took Sorey a painfully long moment to clear the thick smoke from his eyes and throat, and by then she was nowhere to be seen. He started forward, but something inside the car’s burning shell popped and fizzed and prompted him to move further down the wall, wary of a second explosion.

“Alisha!” It was hard to hear over the fire and sizzling metal, but he could definitely make out the snarls and grunts of the undead on the other side. Had she fallen straight into them? _“Alisha!”_

He made his way towards the gap that the car had come crashing through, only to immediately backpedal: zombies were stumbling through, and the only thing worse than that was that they were _on fire._ Not just embers, either, but tall flames that raged across their shoulders and outstretched arms, the stench of burning hair and flesh already wafting in his direction. They didn’t seem to notice that their putrid skin was literally melting off of their bones, but moved towards him with the same eerie determination as always.

Sorey wavered. Even if he could somehow get through them－ _very_ doubtful, there were already so many－the street behind them looked like an inferno－

“Sorey!”

He started. “Alisha?”

“Are yo－” Her distant voice was muffled by all the noise behind and in front of him. He didn’t have long－the group would be on him in seconds.

“I’m fine!” he called back, as loudly as he was able. “Just－get to the station! I’ll catch up!”

He thought he heard something that might have been an objection, but there was no time to argue. “I’ll find my way around! Now go!” The command was for both of them: he turned and took off at a run, back across the lot in the direction they’d come. By the time he rounded the corner and escaped the glow of the now-distant fires, the rain was picking back up and soaking him anew.

The heat in his skin was soon replaced with a chill, but he couldn’t have said whether it was the downpour or the realization that he was alone for the first time since entering this forsaken city.


	2. Chapter 2

Alisha’s lungs were burning when she slipped through the small opening in the gate. Her elbow struck the steel frame hard enough to make her arm go numb, but she only bit her lip and didn’t stop. On the other side she threw all of her weight into the door to slam it shut and hastily pulled the enormous bolt lock into place, and not a second too soon－several zombies lunged into it, their rotting hands snatching at the air as they reached for her between the bars. The gate held, and after a moment of watching to make sure it looked solid, Alisha turned away and kept moving.

The yard of the police station appeared deserted, oddly bare of both human and zombie. She wanted to take that as a good sign, but the fact that the gate had been open, and no one appeared to be keeping watch…

Pushing her questions aside, she jogged across the sidewalk and up to the large, oak front doors. They, too, were unlocked, but she hesitated and looked back at the gate. She wanted to believe that Sorey could have beaten her here, but she doubted it. She had made a more or less straight shot from the construction site, while he would have had to find a way around it without losing his sense of direction.

Leaving the gate locked didn’t sit well with her, but she didn’t really have a choice for the moment. With a sharp huff she quickly decided: the sooner she determined the state of the station, the sooner she could－hopefully－find help and more ammunition, and then go searching for him.

Her gun held tight and pointed down, she hauled open one of the heavy doors. It groaned beneath the strain like an ancient giant stirred from sleep; it was loud even through the pounding rain.

She stepped into warm light and a wave of comforting heat. The door closed behind her with an ominous click and immediately muffled the rain, although she could still hear it drumming on the roof.

The front hall was, likewise, suspiciously empty. Despite having been here twice before for her interview and enlistment, Alisha still found the decor a little odd. There were signs of the station’s previous days as a museum, before the renovation: an enormous marble statue of a woman greeted those who entered. Behind that was a wall dividing the foyer from the lobby, beyond which she recalled there to be a tall, elegant pedestal of sorts, and a bronze goddess statue at the top of the stairs beyond that.

Unlike the last time she was here, however, the hall was a mess. Chairs were scattered everywhere, some of them overturned. What looked to be makeshift cots were cluttered along the walls, and various medical supplies－some clean, some used－littered the floor. As she stepped further inside, she realized she was treading on bullet casings.

It looked as though the station had served as an emergency shelter before now, probably when this whole _thing_ started. There were no people, not even bodies, but she did spy a few bloodstains on both the beds and the floor.

For a moment she debated the risk of announcing her presence, but on the chance that another survivor could be hiding nearby, she took it－after shifting her gun to both hands, finger perched on the trigger.

“Hello?” She waited, but other than a short echo, there was no response. With a quiet hum she took another look around the room. It was a pretty big station, with plenty of areas for people－or zombies－to hide. If someone was holed up in one of the rooms, she might be looking at a rescue mission rather than a reprieve.

 _That’s fine,_ she reminded herself. _Sorey seems pretty smart. He wasn’t too far from here and he’s armed. Right now I need to focus on what’s in front of me._ She couldn’t deny that she was worried about him, especially given the pacificist vibe he’d given her, but she couldn’t let that distract her. First things first, and then she would do what she could for him.

She noticed that the doorway to the east wing was blocked by an emergency shutter, which she was positive hadn’t been in place the last time she was here. That seemed like her best bet; there were some big rooms over there, so perhaps the survivors would have holed up in one of them. The shutter’s switch was on the adjacent wall, so she flipped it and stood back－just in case someone or some _thing_ came through－as it rattled open, unnervingly loud in the quiet atmosphere.

It screeched to a halt. Alisha waited, listening with baited breath, but heard nothing. It was pitch black on the other side, so after searching the current room for a flashlight, she passed under the shutter and into the darkness.

Her beam bounced over the walls and found nothing immediately strange: bulletin boards, city posters, flyers. She tried not to linger on the nearest board that was packed full with missing person notices.

Down a short flight of stairs, she sucked in a surprised breath as she stepped into a puddle of water, the splash startling her in the silence. Not just a puddle, she quickly realized: the entire hall was flooded. Not too high－not even ankle-deep－but it was still indication of what a bad state this area was in. She almost turned back, but a clanging noise further down the hall made her jump, and then reconsider. If she’d come this far, she might as well keep going.

She moved as quietly as she was able, sloshing through the water with her gun in one hand and the flashlight in the other. She tried the first set of doors she came to, but they were locked. She moved on and tried the next－the press room－and found it empty. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears as she kept going. The suspense of the silence was almost worse than running from the zombies outside. At least then she knew what she was up against.

She passed the bathrooms－the source of the flooding, it sounded like－and a glint of light around the next corner gave her hope. She picked up her pace just slightly, gun still raised as she moved around it, and was surprised when she nearly ran straight into the back of someone.

“Oh－” Her words caught as the man swiveled around, the whites of his clouded eyes and the blood on his face gleaming in the glare of her flashlight. Alisha instantly backpedaled, avoiding the grasp of his fingers as he swiped, missed, and hit the floor with a toneless groan. She debated jumping over him, but something splashed behind her and she whirled around to see another zombie stumbling out of the restroom.

She didn’t think twice. Up ahead was unknown, potentially a dead end where she could get cornered by these two and however many else might be lurking. She needed to head back and rethink her plan. She bolted past the second zombie, no longer taking care to disguise her footsteps as she stomped through the water. She hurried past the press room, past the locked doors－and cried out as they suddenly burst open, missing her by inches, as did the zombie that came rushing through it. Behind him were at least two more.

Alisha kept going, back up the small staircase and into the front hall. She slammed the shutter switch down into the CLOSE position, but the door only rattled in place and didn’t descend.

The first zombie rounded the corner and Alisha took aim. Should she kill as many of these ones as she could? Should she save her bullets? She couldn’t let these ones wander in the front hall－what if Sorey or someone else came in－

As she hesitated, the zombie stepped through. Her finger started to pull the trigger.

In a purely rookie mistake, she was so focused on what was in front of her that she’d all but ignored her surroundings, trusting that they hadn’t changed in the few minutes she’d been gone. The shadow in the corner of her eye caught her attention too late－but rather than her, it charged toward the zombies, and Alisha could only stare as a man nearly a foot taller than her drove an enormous fist straight into the zombie’s face. The corpse staggered back into the others who had caught up, the effect not unlike bowling pins as they hit the floor in a pile.

Without missing a beat, the man reached up, took hold of the shutter, and yanked it down, _hard_ , slamming it back into place and sealing the hall.

As he turned to look at her, Alisha realized he was wearing an officer’s uniform－one that identified him as several ranks above her.

He glanced at her gun, which was already halfway lowered, and then back to her face. He was a giant of a man, tall, and wide with muscle. His dark brown hair was cut short, just enough to make the scar on his hairline visible, and the frown lines on his forehead and the firm line of his mouth gave her the impression that it was a look he wore often. His arms hung at his sides, but his right－the one near his holstered gun－was tensed even as he asked,

“Are you hurt?”

Alisha found her voice. “N-No, I’m okay.” She lowered her weapon completely and relaxed, and guessed that the slight shift in his broad shoulders said he’d done the same. “Thanks for that－I didn’t mean to lead them out here, I－I just arrived, and I was looking－”

“It’s fine. It’s probably only a matter of time until more wander in here.” He glanced past her. “Did anyone else come with you?”

“No, I… No. I was with someone, but we were separated outside.”

“I see.” He looked genuinely apologetic.

“I’m Alisha,” she added quickly. “Alisha Diphda. I was supposed to start here a few days ago.”

The man blinked. “The rookie?”

“Yes. I couldn’t reach anyone. I was worried－but I came into town earlier and－sir, what is going _on?_ ”

He held up a hand, but hesitated when she went silent. After a moment, he offered the hand towards her. “Captain Sergei Strelka,” he said as she shook it. “I’d say I’m sorry for the circumstances, but… that would be an understatement.”

“No, I’m glad I came. It looks like you can use all the help you can get.”

Sergei nodded, but he looked briefly distracted before addressing her again. “You look like you’ve had a rough night. This way－at least take a breather while we talk. The station’s compromised, but I’ve managed to keep this area more or less secure.”

He led her to the middle of the hall, where some benches had been pushed together near the double staircase. They sat down opposite each other and Alisha took stock of his appearance again, this time noting the small cuts and bruises on his forearms, the blood splatter stains on his white dress shirt.

“You asked what’s going on around here,” he remarked. “I’m sorry to say I don’t know much more than you do. No one does. It started with some strange murders a few days ago, at the same time that a lot of people reported getting sick. Flu-like symptoms, but with a high mortality rate.” He looked as though he was holding back a sigh. “Looking back now, it was obvious that the two weren’t mutually exclusive. People reportedly going insane… eating others…” He shook his head and didn’t continue.

Alisha recognized that look. “It wasn’t your fault, Captain. No one could have guessed what would happen. I’m still having a hard time believing it.”

After a moment he nodded again, but it didn’t look like agreement as much as the acknowledgement that he wasn’t alone in struggling to accept the situation. “Anyway… The city was placed under emergency quarantine. Before we knew it, things went from bad to worse, and now… This is where we’ve ended up.”

“Where are the other officers?” she wondered. Sergei’s grim shift in expression answered for him, and she regretted being so insensitive.

“As far as I’m aware, it’s only you and me,” he said calmly. “There’s a chance some could still be alive, but I haven’t seen or heard anyone since this morning. And I’ve confirmed a few…” He trailed off. Cleared his throat. “But I’m glad you made it here alright. And impressed.”

Alisha kept the weight in her chest out of her tone. “Yes, sir. And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Glad to hear it. You have your work cut out for you, Alisha.” He picked a laptop up off the bench and opened it, silent for half a minute as he studied it. Alisha didn’t push; she was glad for the chance to catch her breath, doubly so for human company. She was still soaked from the rain and stained with mud and sore from running, but she couldn’t complain.

Finally, Sergei spoke up. “I can tell you this much: with the number of hostiles outside, our best bet is to go through the parking garage. At best we can find a working vehicle, at worst we move on foot. Either way, it should be safer than attempting the main street out front.”

“The parking garage,” she repeated quietly. “Where does that lead, sir?”

“Somewhere that isn’t here. Right now that’s all that matters.” He fixed her with a steady look. “This part of the station is safe for now, but there’s nothing to hold back a mob of those things if they come knocking. At the very least, we need to establish an emergency exit.” Returning his attention to the computer, he explained, “Most attempts to contact the outside have failed. Phone lines are dead and the Internet’s out, at least here in the station. Even the communications center we have upstairs hasn’t been working.”

Alisha frowned. “Some kind of power spike?”

“Maybe.” Sergei didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to.

“You… Captain, do you think this was intentional?”

“I don’t know,” he said quickly, firmly. “And I don’t want us to get distracted by unnecessary guesses－we have enough going on as it is.” He turned the computer around to show her a digital map of the station. “I’m not sure how much was explained to you in your interview, but the station’s architecture is… odd. The locking mechanisms here are pretty unique; we don’t have a master key, so we’ll need to find the right keys to access different areas. Some need more than one key. Each door is marked, at least, so it shouldn’t be too much of a puzzle figuring out what goes where.”

Alisha leaned forward, doing her best to memorize the map and its labels. Offices on the first floor of the west wing… a library on the second floor, the Spec Ops unit on the third… “A lot of rooms,” she noted. “Are we looking for keys to the parking garage?”

“Right. But to be honest with you, I’m going solely off of intel from another officer. There’s supposed to be a hidden door around here－” He indicated the large pedestal seated against the closest wall, as tall as Alisha and three times as wide. “I’ve never used it, but it looks like there are three keyholes beneath the plaque. It might be a stretch,” he said apologetically, “but it wouldn’t be the first secret door in this place. Given the state out things outside, I think it’s worth a shot.”

Alisha nodded. Even if the intel was a dead end, it was worth investigating more of the station. At the very least, she needed more ammunition before she could go looking for Sorey. If she could secure a way out for Sergei in the meantime, all the better. She climbed to her feet. “Yes, sir. Do you have any suggestions on where we start?”

“Honestly, as crazy as it’s been, those keys could have ended up anywhere. Obviously a lot of people have been on edge, and there were some panic outbreaks. A few groups locked themselves in different rooms, so we might need to get creative.”

“Are they still there now?”

Sergei’s expression was, again, hard to read. “Do you know how those monsters are made?”

“The… the zombies? No, I thought you said no one knew.”

“We don’t know how it _started_ ,” he stressed, “but we know why there are so many. I’ve seen it with my own eyes－if a person is bitten by them, that’s it.” Alisha stared. “It’s some kind of disease. The infected person becomes feverish and quickly dies. After that, the body turns and eventually gets up again.” His expression hardened. “That’s why you can’t hesitate. No matter who it is－who it was－there’s nothing left of them at that point. For your own sake, you kill it or you run.”

That was precisely what Alisha had been doing for the last couple of hours, but hearing it put like that was unsettling. Her initial shock upon discovering the zombies at the gas station was trickling back again, now in disbelief that Sorey had hit the nail on the head in calling them that.

“I understand,” she assured him.

His firm look softened just slightly. “Alright. As for where to look for the keys… I haven’t had a chance to search too thoroughly, so anywhere is probably fair game. But the chief’s office comes to mind. Second floor, east wing. As does the custodian’s area in the west wing.” He jerked a thumb at the pedestal again. “Judging by the holes, we’re looking for some pretty ancient keys. Brass, maybe.”

It was a bit of a stretch to go on, Alisha agreed, but it was _all_ they had to go on. “Noted.”

“I’ll start in the west,” said Sergei as he also stood. “You try the office. Last I checked, the hostiles weren’t too thick in that area. And take these.” He produced two gun magazines. When she hesitated, he assured her, “I can spare them.”

She thanked him and tucked them away in her pockets, and then stole a glance in the direction of the station’s front doors. “I locked the front gate on the way in,” she told him. “But I’m expecting someone to meet me here.”

Sergei hummed. “That’s a good point. One of us should wait here in case any more stragglers come by.” He thought for a moment. “We’ll trade off,” he decided. “One will stay and keep this hall secure while the other searches a different area. If we rotate, we can avoid wearing ourselves out fighting those things.”

That sounded like a solid plan. Alisha agreed and Sergei leaned over to tap the laptop a few times. “This has a live feed to the security cameras that are still working, including the gate. We can keep watch from here and provide assistance if someone shows up.” He paused again, and then decided, “I’ll investigate first. In the meantime, you rest up while you can. If you have time, look around for any medical supplies here that might still be salvageable.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a confident air of determination, Sergei turned away for the staircase. Alisha had to admire his levelheaded authority－especially if she had interpeted his words right and he’d seen some of his own men fall victim to this chaos. He was still thinking straight, thinking ahead, and keeping others’ best interests at heart.

“Oh,” she called after him suddenly. “Captain? I just remembered. There’s a member of the Spec Ops team－his name is Mikleo. Do you know if he’s…?”

Sergei fixed her with a strange look, as though assessing the question. She held her breath without realizing－she didn’t want to break any awful news to Sorey－but he ended the pause by shaking his head.

“He’s gone. Left town right before all this started.” With a long, low exhale he stared across the room. “Just as well. It’s not his fault we didn’t listen to him.”

* * *

Going by his watch, it had been nearly an hour and a half since Sorey parted with Alisha when he finally reached the police station. He’d gotten turned around a couple times, dependent on street signs to point him in the right direction and needing to take more than a couple detours. Many zombies seemed content to idle about, so waiting them out wasn’t often an option, and even the roads that were nearly clear of them were hazards of a different variety, usually in the form of fires and pile-ups and other obstructing debris.

More than once, Sorey had taken the long way around when he noticed an overturned oil tanker or a gas station a little too close to the wreckage. He’d had enough close calls with explosions-slash-cars for one night.

He kept close to the brick wall surrounding the station, sticking to the shadows as well as he was able. He was getting used to moving like this, constantly looking over his shoulder and furtively moving from cover to cover. The gun Alisha had given him remained strapped to his side, untouched since receiving it. He’d been lucky in that regard, he figured.

The arch of the gateway came into view. Sorey broke into a run, slowing before he hit the corner and warily peering around it. He immediately stiffened in surprise.

The gate’s tall, iron doors lay in the station’s yard, twisted and broken. It looked like a Mack Truck had driven through, except there were no signs of wreckage or even tire tracks in the well-kept grass. Sorey hurried inside, jogging past the couple of zombie stragglers who caught sight of him and following the sidewalk to the building’s entrance.

The large wooden doors looked no better: one was splintered and dented and hung loosely off its hinges, swaying in the wind and striking the doorway in pronounced _thud_ s. The other was gone.

With no way to go but forward, Sorey cautiously went inside. It was dry, at least, and a bit warmer－and also apparently deserted. The silence hanging in the air was a heavy one, the kind that left no doubt in his mind that he was alone. He noticed a few bodies strewn about the floor further in, but each one had a large, scarlet puddle under its head and didn’t react to his footsteps. He went around them.

A quick search around the area revealed little of interest. The dated architecture－1950s, maybe?－didn’t go unnoticed, nor the impressive statues, but even his appreciation for historic art was taking a backseat at the moment. Stopping near one of the staircases, he glanced back over the room once more and couldn’t help a quiet sigh of disappointment. The dead zombies were, hopefully, a sign of recent survivor activity, but finding neither Alisha nor Mikleo right away left a large dent in his optimism.

 _But this place is huge,_ he reasoned. _And with the doors busted down like that, staying right here wouldn’t be too smart, anyway._

He nodded to himself. He needed to keep looking.

A laptop sitting on a bench caught his eye, doubly so when he realized it was on. He quickly sat down to investigate, finding that it was logged into some kind of security program. He only needed a couple minutes to learn his way around it.

It looked like only a handful of the security cameras in the building still worked. There was some kind of system alert highlighting a couple areas, which probably indicated a power failure of some kind. The working feeds confirmed that there were zombies throughout the building, wandering the halls and feasting on corpses. Trying not to look too closely at the latter, Sorey shifted to the feed of the front gate. He perused the list of time stamps and searched for 9:20, the approximate time he and Alisha had parted. He found it, hit fast forward, and waited with bated breath－and at 9:36 she ran through the gate, throwing it shut behind her before continuing on.

“Alright,” he breathed in relief. “You made it.” He continued watching, but no other person showed up. Then he got his answer about the gate’s condition.

At first he thought the feed skipped some frames: one second the gate was in place, the next it was suddenly bent in half. He stared as it was knocked inward with the force of a battering ram, striking the brick building in a brief shower of sparks. It also took out whatever light source had been illuminating that part of the yard up to that point; shadows filled the entrance, and he nearly missed the second figure that entered.

 _Another zombie?_ It was definitely human-sized－a bit on the small side, maybe around Alisha’s height, although he couldn’t have said for sure. The dark silhouette moved at a steady, determined pace as it cut across the yard, too fast for one of the undead, and for an instant it passed for normal－until it passed right under the camera and Sorey realized there was something very _off_. The film was grainy and the rain particularly thick, making it hard to tell for certain, but while the figure was human- _sized_ , it didn’t look human- _shaped_. It moved out of the camera’s range and was gone.

Sorey sat back with an uneasy frown. It could have just been a trick of the bad lighting, but something about that silhouette gave him a bad feeling in a way he couldn’t explain－similar to the bad feeling Mikleo’s last message had given him. Not to mention what it had done to the gate…

He checked the time stamp on the video. It occurred at 10:41－less than twenty minutes ago. That bad feeling grew more intense.

Shaking his head, he continued searching the program. He could think about it while he was moving.

He clicked on another window and was rewarded with a blueprint of the station. It was surprisingly complex, but then he remembered Mikleo telling him that the building used to be a museum. His gaze swept over the first floor, the second, and his heart skipped a hopeful beat when he saw a room labeled SPEC OPS OFFICE. He spent a few moments memorizing the map, and then shut the computer and climbed back to his feet.

He hurried up to the second floor, hoping to cut through the library, but the doorknob only jiggled when he tried it. Locked. He tried the next door with the same result.

_Alright, the long way it is._

Back down on the first floor, he headed through the open doorway on the left side of the room, in the direction of what had been labeled the west wing. It started off as some kind of receptionist area, brightly lit but equally devoid of both the living and the dead. On the other side was a single door. As Sorey went to open it, a shadow darted over the window on his left with a loud scraping noise.

He jumped half a foot in the air and whirled towards it, heart pounding in his ears－but there was only rain tapping the glass, the distant glow of city lights in the background. He waited, eyes and ears strained, but nothing followed. Finally, warily, he let out the breath he was holding.

_Maybe just a bird. Or a rat. Or… something else equally unlikely but a lot less freaky than what my imagination’s coming up with._

This time he paused before reaching for the door. Beyond this point, it was a new game: he wouldn’t have the freedom of a wide open street. These were small, cramped halls, with an unknown number of zombies in them. If he ran into one, or more, there was likely no going around it. Only back, or through.

Sorey’s fists clenched and loosened. With a short, sharp exhale he pushed his jacket back to carefully unlatch the gun from its holster and slip it free. He held it in both hands as he studied it, recalling Alisha’s impromptu lesson.

_Arms straight, shoulders relaxed, both eyes open._

He turned off the safety.

_Don’t touch the barrel after firing. The recoil feels worse the first couple times. Don’t pull the trigger unless you can see what you’re aiming at._

All easy enough in theory.

It wasn’t as though he had any gun-related trauma, or even a particular issue with guns themselves. They were a tool and he saw the necessity of them, but that was in the hands of a person who knew what he was doing. He wasn’t one of those people. It seemed all too easy to miss and hit someone else before even realizing it.

 _Guess that’s one upside to being alone,_ he thought grimly.

With the gun held gingerly in his right hand, he pushed the door inward with his left. It opened up into what looked to be pure darkness. For a nerve-wracking few moments his eyes strained against the shadows, and then they slowly adjusted.

He thought he’d seen the worst at the gas station, back where this all started. He thought wrong.

The stench of blood and rot felt like a physical blow inside his head and he nearly reeled, only just suppressing a cough of disgust. He stepped inside and what he saw was even worse than what he smelled, if possible.

There was blood _everywhere._ The floor, the walls, even the ceiling in places－in puddles, in streaks, in splatters. His shoes stuck to the tacky surface underfoot, each step accentuated by a wet, peeling sound. He did his best to breathe through his mouth as he went, gun gripped firmly at shoulder height. All too soon he left the pool of light from the room behind, plunging himself completely into the blue-black darkness.

His eyes continued to adjust and he made out some more details: a row of windows on the left, covered haphazardly with a bunch of two-by-fours nailed into place; the hall ended in a sharp ninety-degree turn up ahead. And other than his own footsteps and the rain outside, it was silent. Now more than ever, he regretted forgetting his flashlight in Alisha’s car.

Sorey had almost reached the corner when it occurred to him: despite the obscene amount of blood, he didn’t see any bodies. Not even the remains of one. He paused mid-step as his brain struggled to make sense of it－the logical side suggesting someone could have cleared the hall for easy passage, the paranoid side thinking back to that weird shape outside the window.

He pushed both voices aside and pressed his back to the wall, peering around the corner. It looked even darker, but equally empty as far as he could see. He let out an audible sigh.

The explosion of splintering wood and shattering glass right behind him sent his heart into his throat. He spun around to see something come through the window and hit the floor, heavily, on all fours. For an instant his mind thought dog, but the angles were too sharp, the limbs too oddly proportioned, and the hissing noise coming from it was nothing like anything he’d heard before, human or animal－

Even with the gun in his hand, his first instinct wasn’t to shoot something this close. It was to either lash out physically or run, and after a couple hours of doing nothing but the latter, that reflex won out. He turned hard and bolted, and immediately the thing behind him shrieked－a piercing cry that he could only liken to the sound of steel being ground and crushed. Wet-sounding _thuds_ pursued him, as did another angry cry and the sound of something whistling through the air just behind his head－

As the door at the end of the hall came into sight, he realized he had no clue what was on the other side and that running like this might have been a terrible idea－but the thing behind him was catching up and he had no choice. He slammed his shoulder into the door as he spun the knob－mercifully, it opened－and half-fell inside even as he threw it shut behind him. The bolt clicked into place and a second later the door shuddered－and Sorey stumbled backwards as something pierced the thick wood at eye-level, three very long and sharp somethings that were wrenched free after a moment with another one of those blood-chilling shrieks.

He didn’t stop to reflect on how close that call had been. If he did, he might have faltered in his resolve to keep going. Instead he took a quick glance around the area－another hall－and fortune favored him again: it looked empty.

His pursuer had quickly fallen silent, but he could still hear something heavy sliding around on the other side of the door. Following the soft blue glow around the next corner, Sorey corrected his hold on the gun and watched the volume of his footsteps. Again he looked ahead, and this time his caution was rewarded: there were a few bodies on the floor, which was just as much of a bloody mess as the last hall. The light came from a small TV mounted in the far corner, its screen spitting static. There were several doors－it looked like he was in an office area－and with nothing to do but try each one in his search for a staircase, he made his way along as quietly as he was able.

The first was locked. The second－a thick metal door labeled SAFETY STORAGE ROOM－required stepping over a mutilated corpse, so he passed it for the time being. There was one more door－WEST OFFICE－before the area split off into another corridor. He tried the doorknob and this one turned, but the door only moved about an inch before stopping, as if jammed－or blocked.

He put his shoulder to it and pushed, firmly but slowly－and something on the other side creaked, the sound of heavy furniture being pushed across the floor.

It was nearly wide enough for him to slip through when the same cry from before sounded behind him. This time he was ready, raising the gun to shoulder height as he turned and looking for the source－but rather than where he’d come from, this one came from the hall ahead. And this time he got a look at the thing.

It moved along the ceiling like an oversized spider. It was closest in shape to a human, but that wasn’t saying much－only that it had four limbs, a head, and a vaguely humanoid method to its movements, if humans shuffled around on their stomachs. Its hands weren’t hands, but a twisted mass of blade-like claws that pierced the drywall to carry its awkward weight. Its body looked wet, and as it moved closer to the TV, Sorey realized it was skinless－pink-red muscle covered its skinny body, and something that looked unnervingly like a brain made up the odd shape of its head.

What little mental immunity he’d built up against the zombies suddenly didn’t matter: he felt sick, dazed, and half-convinced that he was hallucinating.

The thing wasn’t looking in his direction. Its head wobbled left, right, as a clicking sound rumbled in its throat. Perhaps it couldn’t see him in the shadows－but if he moved, that might be enough to catch its attention. The office door he was attempting to open looked flimsy compared to the last one, and contained a glass window. There was no guarantee the creature couldn’t smash through in pursuit.

Better to shoot it now, he decided, while it was off-guard. Slowly, he raised the gun and took aim at the middle of its body, not trusting himself to get a headshot on the first try. Even if he didn’t kill it, hopefully he’d wound it badly enough that it couldn’t give chase.

He held his breath, set his finger on the trigger－and faster than he could follow, something seized both of his wrists and forced his hands down, squeezing so hard that he nearly dropped the gun. His startled cry was muffled by something clamping hard over his mouth, and he was still in a stunned state of shock when he was hauled, bodily, through the office door.

He was released just as quickly and hit the floor on his back. It was brighter in here, and he watched in confusion as the door was quickly shut, a desk pushed into place in front of it, and the figure standing over him turned around.

“Wh－” he started, but the man put a finger to his lips with a stern glare. A second later Sorey saw a shadow through the door’s cloudy glass, heard another low hiss as the thing from before scuttled by on the ceiling outside. He waited with baited breath, as did the stranger, and not until the man seemed to relax did Sorey’s adrenaline rush start to fade, and allow him to take in more of the scene.

The first thing he noticed was that the man standing before him was a mess: his clothes were soaked in blood, his left hand grasping his side where the stains were biggest. He was also slouched over, and Sorey realized his hard expression was at least partly pained. The second was that he wore a uniform.

Silently, the man motioned for him to follow－in his free hand was a gun, and it took Sorey a moment to realize it was _his_ gun, that he’d been disarmed that easily－and Sorey quickly picked himself up to do so.

The office was a mess, but a clean mess compared to the halls outside. Chairs and desks had been pushed around, overturned, and even broken, but the bloodstains were few. A couple corpses slouched against the far wall, but even from here he could discern the bloody holes in their foreheads. He averted his eyes and followed the officer to a smaller side room, what looked like a manager’s office. There the man half-sat, half-fell into a chair, heaving a short breath as he looked up at Sorey.

“Sorry about that. Those things are… very sensitive to sound. Unless you’re an expert marksman and knew where to shoot, you wouldn’t have killed it before it got to you.”

Sorey had no room to argue in that regard. “R-Right. Thanks. I owe you, uh…?”

“Sergei－” A sharp inhale cut him off. Sorey saved him the trouble.

“Sorey,” he introduced, but he was frowning. “You need to get that wrapped up. Is there anything around here we can－?”

“I’m fine,” Sergei cut him off, the brusqueness betraying what a lie that was. “More importantly, you can’t stay here. There’s a lot more than those things wandering around, and it’s only getting worse. Doors don’t stop all of them.”

So the station was a bust, after all. Where else was there to go, then? Before Sorey could ask, Sergei went on, “Myself and another officer are looking for a different way out. Find her, she can give you more－”

A thundering crash shook the walls. Sorey jumped, but Sergei’s frown only deepened. He looked grim, but not surprised. “It’s close,” he said gruffly.

“What? What is?”

Sergei offered Sorey’s gun back. “No time. You need to move.”

“Why? Wait－what’s－”

Hauling himself to his feet－he was much taller than Sorey had realized－Sergei ignored his confused stammering and limped back into the main office. He snatched something off the nearest table and held it out to Sorey－a rather old-fashioned-looking key.

“This will get you through the library on the second floor. If you find anymore keys like this, bring them to the column at the end of the main hall. And if you meet Alisha, tell her to fill you in.”

Another crash, much closer than the last. Sorey took the key, but hesitated as he struggled to piece together all the loose ends being thrown at him. “O-Okay, but－what about you?”

“I’ll only slow you down. I’ll stay here and keep anything from getting through to the main hall. If that gets overrun, things will get a lot harder.” He jerked his head towards the far end of the office. “Take that door. Don’t hesitate to shoot anything, but don’t make any more noise than you absolutely have to. If in doubt, run. Understand?”

That last word was said with such authority that Sorey agreed on reflex. “Yeah. I got it.”

“Good.” Sergei picked something else up off the table, this time with both hands. Sorey didn’t like guns, but he recognized a shotgun when he saw one. “Get going.”

There were a hundred things Sorey wanted to ask him, but he could tell there was no time for them. He started towards the indicated door, but stopped after a few steps and looked back.

“Hey－be careful.”

Sergei’s stern countenance rippled in a way that might have indicated surprise－and then something like a grim smile took the intensity of his hard stare down a notch. “You, too, Sorey. Now go.”

The door led back into the first room of the station, and Sorey wasted no time in making his way up the stairs to the library door. He’d just turned the key in the lock when he heard a short, muffled blast beneath his feet.

He hesitated, feeling more than a little guilty for not sticking around－but as he’d told Alisha earlier, he knew he was just deadweight to an extent. Even wounded, Sergei may fair better without having to look after a second person.

He pushed on.

* * *

Sorey had figured his good luck would give out sooner or later. The library was spacious－and gorgeous; he regretted that he wasn’t here under better circumstances－but there were half a dozen zombies wandering about, with an equal amount of corpses crowding the floor. He went first for the side door, which, if memory of the station map served, would bring him close to the Spec Ops office.

He wasn’t terribly surprised to find it locked from the other side. He went around a table to dodge the two undead who were closest and doubled back towards the tall staircase－only to jerk to a halt when he spotted a female zombie stumbling her way down it, her head cocked at an odd angle and her left arm missing below the elbow.

He cast a quick glance around and spotted a tall ladder on the other side of the room, the kind used to access the topmost shelves. It looked like he’d be able to pull himself up onto the second floor from there; the walkway overhead was fenced in by a wooden railing that seemed to have plenty of handholds.

Sorey made the split-second decision to do just that. There were a few more zombies in front of it already heading his way, but the path leading around the bookshelf behind them looked clear. He made for it at a quick jog, having the sense to check the corner before he turned it－fortunately, because he would have run smack into a tall zombie otherwise. Sorey instantly reversed direction but the zombie grabbed for him－missing him, but still knocking him back with its broad shoulder as it fell. He stumbled backwards, lost his balance, and hit the floor on his back, just in time to see two more zombies dive for him.

He rolled out of the way－their rotten bodies struck the ground with muffled _squelch_ sounds－and scrambled back to his feet, only for his heart to drop. That clumsy misstep had cost him: he was surrounded by four of them now, with more approaching.

There was no getting around it this time: he raised his gun and gripped it tight, taking aim at the closest one.

His first shot missed entirely. It happened so fast that he wasn’t sure how close he had been. The kickback was manageable, although his right palm stung and the joints of his fingers already felt jolted and sore. He reminded himself not to panic and swiveled the gun a little to the left, closer to the inside of the zombie’s body, and squeezed the trigger again.

He’d been aiming for the space between its eyes, sticking to Hollywood logic that the head was the only place worth shooting. The bullet instead tore through its open mouth, a splatter and mist of crimson exploding behind its head in the second before it dropped.

Sorey’s stomach twisted and lurched, but there was no time to dwell on it. He took another two shots to take out the next closest zombie, giving himself enough room to slip through the group and bolt for the ladder. He jumped onto it and scurried up as fast as he was able with the gun still in one hand, his hands sweating but steady.

He was panting when he reached the second floor, but it was more nerves than exertion. He glanced back down at the floor below, eyes lingering on the two zombies he’d put down before passing over the rest gathering at the foot of the ladder, bumping uselessly into one another as they stared up at him with hungry eyes and slack mouths. Sorey knew there was nothing to be done for them－the people they used to be were surely gone, their corpses driven by a mindless hunger that was anything but human－and yet those two kills sat heavy in his chest.

Who had those people been? Probably good people, with families and dreams like anyone else. People who had gotten up one morning without knowing that it would be their last. People who had probably died alone and scared and in terrible pain.

He stood up and gripped the wooden banister until his knuckles were white. He took a short moment to close his eyes and suck in a sharp breath. Now he couldn’t help wondering if Alisha had really been as composed and nonchalant as she looked, or if she’d merely acted that way, perhaps for his sake. Either way, he had a thing or three to learn from her. No matter how much it bothered him, he needed to keep moving and couldn’t afford to hesitate, for any reason.

“Kill or be killed,” he murmured under his breath. “Guess that’s my only choice.”

Sighing loudly, Sorey tore his eyes away from the hungry horde and took another look at the library’s upper floor. Most of the bookshelves sat down below. Up here it was mostly just a walkway, although its wood finish and art pieces on the walls were just as impressive.

Despite his circumstances－or perhaps because of them－Sorey’s usual curiosity bubbled to the surface as he walked along, temporarily distracting his thoughts from the ever-present death and danger at his heels. How old was this building? Had there been restoration work or was it really this well-preserved? Had the entire thing been converted, or were there still areas that hadn’t been touched?

As he caught his breath, a little bit of his normal life trickled back into the picture right then: he was a senior in college, aiming for a history-linguistics double major. He was from a small town, had moved three hours away to attend a decent university, and landed a part-time job at an antique shop to help pay for what his scholarship－a contract with the city museum requiring a year and a half of employment following his graduation－didn’t. Exciting at first, college life had quickly become something simple and everyday. Sorey had rarely complained, but now he missed the normality of that life more than he could express.

It was odd to think that only yesterday he had been dealing with normal problems－oversleeping, finding the milk expired－not running for his life and questioning his sanity.

He thought again of Mikleo. Had it been the same for him? Had this city-wide disaster happened suddenly? Or was there a build-up to warn them? Was this incident related to his weird phone call?

Whatever the case, Sorey doubted it was a simple matter. An entire city couldn’t be ravaged like this overnight, but if there had been warning signs prior, Mikleo at the very least would have acted, not to mention the rest of the police force. And there was still the mystery of why this incident seemed isolated from the rest of the world.

The lack of answers bothered him, but for the moment he could only keep moving. Getting too bogged down by thoughts and guesses could get him killed.

One of the doors on the second floor led into what looked like a storage room, if the sheet- and tarp-covered shapes filling the area were any indication. It was dim, but not dark, thanks to a few free-hanging fluorescent lights. He closed the door behind him－quietly－and headed left, weaving his way through what looked like furniture and art pieces. Against the far wall was a row of iron bars, and as he drew closer he realized it was a holding area, perhaps for more expensive or delicate items. The door was open, and after a quick glance around he headed inside, eyes straining for anything useful. It seemed unlikely there would be weapons about, but in a police-station-slash-museum in the middle of an isolated apocalypse, it was hard to say.

His curiosity was rewarded. He almost overlooked the small lump in the corner, but then realized it was some kind of leg holster－obviously not for a gun, but for holding whatever other small items police officers might carry, since it was emblazoned with the precinct’s initials. He searched it and found what looked like a full magazine (identical, as far as he could tell, to the one in his gun) and a plastic card labeled 1FWS with a barcode. He tucked both back into the pack and strapped it to his left thigh, silently thanking whoever had－unfortunately, probably, for them－left it behind.

There wasn’t much else of practical interest in the cage. As he passed the mounted, marble statue of a woman－Greek from the looks of it－he ran his fingers absently across the brass plate on the front of the column, mildly puzzled by the finger-shaped grooves, and was startled when they made a clicking noise. He quickly backpedaled to investigate, and then realized that the grooves were actually three small wheels, like those on a lock, but instead of numbers each one was embossed with a row of symbols.

Most people would have kept going, but Sorey was genuinely puzzled. What good would an interface like this have on a piece of art? Unless it was a modern replica, in which case…

“A glorified safe?” he muttered. He spun through each wheel, identifying the symbols: seashell, harp, rose, bow and arrow, bird, sword, shield… Too many to just guess the combination randomly, especially when he was in a hurry.

He looked up at the statue again. The woman was more or less life-sized, depicted from the thighs and up. She held herself with an air of importance, her smooth arms hiding little of her exposed chest; she was only clothed from the hips down.

 _Aphrodite, if I had to guess,_ he mused idly. Not that it helped much. Unless－

He turned back to the small wheels. _Aphrodite,_ he repeated, frowning thoughtfully. _Her motifs－flowers－_ He spun the first wheel to the rose. _And… seashell, duh－_ He lined up the second. _And…_ He wrinkled his nose. Goddess of love, beauty－

“Dove!” he said aloud, and immediately winced at his volume. He quickly found the bird on the third wheel－and nothing happened. With a frown not unlike a disappointed pout, he paused and rethought his logic. Then, exhaling impatiently at his oversight, he tried reversing the order: dove-seashell-rose－no good－seashell-rose-dove－

The plaque suddenly clicked, and then with a groan of either age or disuse it slid up into the column, revealing a small compartment. He reached inside and drew out a skeleton key. It was heavy for its size, perhaps made of iron. The head was solid rather than hollow, and imprinted with the stark-white profile of Aphrodite’s face.

For a long moment Sorey stared down at it, and then at the hidden compartment, and back up at the statue.

“That… is _so cool_ ,” he breathed.

* * *

Alisha gave an undignified yelp as she jumped backwards, gun trained on the zombie as it lunged out of the locker.

No, not _lunged_ －it fell, hitting the ground in a crumpled heap and knocking whatever fetid breath it had left out of its lungs, the sound like a leaky pool toy losing the last of its air.

With a relieved but irritated sigh, Alisha relaxed. She looked up at the open locker, now empty, and wondered what the thing had been doing in there to begin with. A second later she decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. She continued her search of the row of lockers, finding a few unlocked and－warily, now－searching them. Amid the dirty clothes she found a dead radio, a blister pack of Advil, a decent-sized pocket knife, and a leg holster that fit her pistol. She pocketed the pills and knife, and made quick work of strapping on the holster.

With her pulse returned to normal after that jumpscare, she pushed on through the shower room. Inside the stall area, several pipes had ruptured. Hot steam filled the air and an inch of warm water flooded the tile, but it was empty, and she couldn’t complain about that. On the other side was a second locker room－empty but for a corpse slouched on the bench, which she didn’t turn her back on until she was through the opposite door.

The hallway up ahead was long and dark. Two of the windows on the right had been shattered, leaving rainwater to soak the wooden floorboards. For a moment Alisha dared to relax, recalling what she could of the map the captain had shown her.

The captain. Alisha frowned. She wanted to believe with all her heart that he was still alive－but when she’d returned to the main hall to find the place in a wreck and the front doors destroyed, and Sergei missing, she couldn’t help fearing the worst. She had found no body, nor any signs of a bloody struggle, at least, so she had that comfort. But for him to leave his post and disappear… What had happened? He had left a few dead zombies behind, but surely that wasn’t enough to chase him from his post. Perhaps more of those long-tongued creatures…

She withheld a sigh and shook her head. Assumptions would get her nowhere. The best way to help the captain was to keep going. She’d found no other survivors so far, nor any promising leads of a way out, but she _had_ recovered one of the keys he’d described－at least, she hoped it was one of them－in the remains of a lion statue that had been shattered, its pedestal snapped in half and its hidden compartment laid bare.

_One down, two to go._

She kept moving.

The maze of hallways made her uneasy, but now she preferred them to the chaos of the streets outside. Most of the zombies she came across were already dead, likely killed by the missing (or turned) police officers, but there was always the risk of those that only _looked_ dead, and awoke as soon as she tried to step over them.

She had better control of her surroundings in here, the ability to drive the zombies into a choke point if necessary, although that wasn’t always a good thing. It also meant she had to constantly find alternate ways around if she didn’t want to waste ammo or face an uncomforably large group－and that was easier said than done considering the layout of this place. Many doors were locked, and according to Sergei there were more lock types and different keys than even he could count, or was probably even aware of.

On any other day she would have admired the overly complicated architecture, even taken time out of her day to look into the history behind it. Now, Alisha couldn’t wait to get out of here.

She stepped around a couple limp bodies and squinted at the upcoming door. The tab above it read SPEC OPS OFFICE. She dared to feel a glimmer of optimism. The S.O. were separate from her unit, but she had heard only good things about their ability. If anyone else had survived around here, surely this team had the best odds.

Even so, she gripped the doorknob with care, opening it as silently as she was able, and her gun remained tight in her right hand. She pushed it open slowly, soundlessly, and listened, glad that the storm outside had eased up on its loud roof-pounding.

She heard something inside: the rustle of what sounded like papers, something heavy being closed. Human noises, but she couldn’t be too careful.

Alisha slipped quickly inside, both hands on her weapon the second she was through and training her sights on the first－the _only_ －figure she saw in the room, leaning over one of the desks lining the opposite wall－

_“Sorey?”_

She hadn’t meant to let that much emotion bleed into her voice. His head snapped up, his shoulders tensing as his face flickered from alarm to confusion, and then to relief and a smile. “Alisha!”

They hurried forward to meet halfway. “You made it!” she exclaimed. It felt as though it had been days since she last smiled, especially this openly.

Sorey seemed to catch himself from moving _too_ close, stopping on the edge of her personal bubble and falling back a half-step. If he had outright hugged her, she wouldn’t have blamed him. Any sign of life here was welcome, particularly a friendly and familiar face. “I’m glad to see you’re okay,” he replied. “It’s so quiet here, I was getting worried.”

She reached forward and gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine,” she assured him. Tired, bruised, and more stressed than she could ever remember being, but fine. She inwardly marveled that he likewise seemed so composed. For a civilian, he really did have his head on straight. “How about you?”

He nodded. “All things considered? Can’t complain.” He looked back at the desk he’d been investigating, some of his cheer fading. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here, though.”

Alisha connected the dots. “No news on your brother?”

“No.” She could tell he was trying to look unperturbed, but his voice was a little too unsteady and his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “Not yet.”

To that, at least, she could be a little helpful. “I met the police captain when I arrived,” she told him. “He said that Mikleo left town a few days ago, before all this started.”

Sorey’s surprise quickly turned to puzzlement. “Left town?”

“Mm. He should be safe, then.”

“Should be,” Sorey agreed with another nod, but his tone left something wanting for conviction.

“Sorey?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just… if he’s alright, then it’s even weirder that I haven’t heard from him.” He returned to the desk and started sifting through the papers and things sitting on top of it, the slow motions of double-checking for something he might have missed. “Thanks, though,” he added in a happier tone. “For telling me. But what about you? Did you find anything else?”

She told him about Sergei’s plan, the keys and passage out of the station, and saw him perk up. “Sergei’s the police captain? I met him. A little bit ago, downstairs.”

“You did? How was he?”

Sorey frowned. “Hurt. But still doing okay, I think. He bought me some time to get away, before…”

“Before?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It sounds like there’s a lot more here than we bargained for. Something besides zombies and those… ceiling-crawler things.”

Alisha recalled the state of the front doors. Before she could think too much on that, Sorey added, “But you mentioned keys－could this be one of ‘em?” She stared as he produced an old-fashioned metal key from his pocket, the twin to the one she had picked up earlier. Her face lit up.

“That’s it! So we just need one more.” Things were finally looking up. They had found two keys already despite the needle-in-a-haystack odds. They just needed the third, and then they could find Sergei, get out, and get help. “Have you searched the rest of this room yet?”

“Not yet. Sorry,” he answered, and stepped back from the desk again－his brother’s desk, clearly－with a thinly veiled look of disappointment.

Together they made a thorough sweep of the office, checking drawers and cabinets and anything else they could find. They updated each other as they went, summarizing their journeys up to this point. There were no keys, but their search did yield a couple more magazines for their pistols, a few small pieces of medical supplies, and a small, one-shoulder backpack that Alisha quickly transferred her supplies into. She offered Sorey the knife she’d found.

“You’ll probably put it to better use than me,” she pointed out with a small smile. He returned the look and accepted it, slipping it into his jeans pocket.

Alisha searched the captain’s office last, a small room set apart from the rest. It was tidy－and strangely bereft of personal items, compared to the other desks－and didn’t have many places to search beyond the desk drawers, which were packed tight with paperwork. As she brushed some folders aside on the desktop, her hand bumped the computer mouse and woke the computer from its doze. She glanced reflexively at the screen as she started to turn away, only to do a double-take when she noticed that the computer’s email inbox was open. There was a single email, marked NEW, and the subject line read _RE: Urgent_.

Even now it didn’t sit well with her to snoop in someone else’s business, especially a superior officer’s, but necessity dictated that she look. At this point, any information was useful information, and a captain was more likely to have information worth having.

She clicked the message and began to read, only to freeze a couple lines in.

“Sorey,” she called, even as she swiftly read over it. “You should see this.”

He joined her a moment later, following her fixed gaze to the screen.

It was actually two messages: one was the incoming reply, which was simply a short _Understood._ with no signature. Beneath it was the original outgoing message:

_Damage control is working. Mikleo is quiet but he’s still a liability. I’m not concerned about the others._

_He’s done his damage, but it’s best to leave him where I can see him. If he disappeared it would only raise more questions and lend credit to his claims. Don’t take any action against him or his partner. I’ll handle it._

_In the meantime I would like an update on the status of the project. We’re grateful for your brother stepping up as a last-minute volunteer, but if you plan to attend his session, I advise you to consider what’s best for him. I am confident in his ability to succeed, but as you know, there is a chance his condition will be highly volatile in the beginning. For the sake of his survival and the project at large, you must think logically, not emotionally. The company is fortunate to have your cooperation and I would prefer to avoid friction by having you removed forcefully._

_I’ll be in touch._

_AC_

Neither of them said anything for nearly half a minute. Alisha stole a sidelong glance at Sorey and saw his eyes rereading the email once, twice, three more times, his expression almost eerily blank. She looked back at the screen and noted the email addresses used－letters and numbers, a mix of the senders’ names and employee IDs, probably. The captain’s used the station’s domain address; the sender was from an _@abbeyinc.com_.

Right as she was about to break the silence, he finally spoke up. “Mikleo knew something.” He stepped away from the desk, head down in thought as he crossed the small office. “That must’ve been what his call was about. Why he dropped off the grid.”

“You think he knew about－this?” she wondered. “What happened to the city?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It sounds like－” Sorey stopped, mid-sentence and mid-step, and cast Alisha an uncertain look. She looked away, crossing her arms.

“It… does sound bad, doesn’t it?” she murmured. She didn’t want to take anything out of context, but that email was pretty damning no matter how she tried to spin it.

_If he disappeared it would only raise more questions._

If that didn’t sound like a conspiracy of the worst kind, she didn’t know what did.

Alisha looked again at the screen. She grabbed the mouse and began to look through the inbox, hoping to find an older email that might shed some light on the matter, but it was empty. Not just “no new mail” empty, but _completely_ empty－the inbox, outbox, sent, and trash folders were all barren.

It seemed the captain was diligent when it came to his privacy, she noted with a frown.

“The address on the reply,” said Sorey suddenly, as if reading her thoughts. “I just realized－Abbey, Inc. is that pharmaceutical company, isn’t it?”

“Right. Its headquarters are actually in this town. It’s where the company was founded, or so I’ve heard.”

“A pharmaceutical company and the police department,” he mused, sounding troubled. “Not exactly related at first glance. Some kind of… embezzling scheme, maybe?” He caught sight of Alisha’s expression and shifted his weight. “I mean, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” he reasoned. “But I think it’s safe to say that Mikleo knows something that other people didn’t want getting out. Including the captain of the Spec Ops and someone high up in that Abbey company, for some reason.”

Alisha shook her head. “It’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. As much as I hate the thought of it… I can’t count out the possibility that something crooked’s going on here.” The very idea made her stomach turn. Stopping that kind of corruption was part of the reason she had wanted to join the force in the first place. She shifted the subject and asked, “And Mikleo never mentioned anything about this to you? He never gave any hints?”

“No. He doesn’t talk about work much.”

It was all very strange, to say the least. A seemingly isolated incident involving zombies, Sorey’s missing brother, the hints of something going on behind the scenes… Was it all connected somehow? And then there was Sergei’s vague remark, that Mikleo had picked up on the warning signs before the rest of them.

Once again, Alisha reminded herself that speculation could only do them so much good. They were missing too many pieces to the overall puzzle to try and solve it right now. “We can ask Captain Strelka when we see him again,” she suggested. “But for now, I think we should keep going, Sorey. Whatever happened, Mikleo isn’t here.”

“...Yeah. I know.” His smile wasn’t as cheerful as before, and it took him a moment to muster it, but it was still a smile. “At least we’re together again. That’s a nice change of pace.”

The feeling was definitely mutual.

As they strode back into the main office, Alisha handed him her key. “You should hold onto this. If we need to leave in a hurry, I’ll cover you.”

“Got it. So I guess we’re looking for more secret statues, huh?”

“That’s my best guess,” she agreed slowly. She was tempted to go back to where Sorey had last seen Sergei, to see if he was alright and needed help－but she couldn’t risk dragging Sorey into a potential hot zone. Nor did she want to leave him alone. “I don’t remember seeing any others, but honestly, I wasn’t paying that much attention to the decor.”

“At least they stick out,” Sorey reasoned. “And going by the other two, it’s probably in a place that isn’t publicly accessible. Makes sense if it’s supposed to be a hiding place.”

“Good point.” That settled it, Alisha decided: they would comb the place for the third statue and key, and with any luck Sergei would be back in the main hall waiting for them. If not, then she could double back and look for him once she found a secure place for Sorey. “Okay,” she said resolutely, shooting him a grim smile. “Let’s go.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when the door to the hallway exploded.

That was her first impression, at least－but there was no heat, no blinding flash, and while the noise was loud, it wasn’t deafening. She’d seen enough things blowing up tonight to know the difference.

They both stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding the debris that tumbled into the room: not just the door, but part of the wall around it, a mess of wood and plaster that left no question as to the strength of the force responsible.

Alisha was the one to react, snapping her pistol out of its holster and leveling it at the shape that slowly stomped through the gap in the wall. Beside her, Sorey’s sharp intake of breath reflected her own surprise.

It wasn’t a zombie, nor one of the tongue-monsters. It was a woman－around Alisha’s age, perhaps a little older, or maybe younger. It was hard to tell beneath the grime and what looked like dried blood on her face. She wore some type of full-body, blue-and-white uniform that was likewise stained, with black combat boots that clashed with the rest of the outfit. Her hair was long and black, nearly to her waist, and seemed to have fallen partway out of a ponytail or braid. Loose strands hung around her face and shoulders.

These were all background details. What Alisha noticed first were the woman’s eyes: they were amber in color, narrowed, fixed on her and Sorey with an intense, blank look that could only be likened to an animal fixed on its prey. Her expression was indifferent, slack, almost robotic.

The second thing Alisha noticed－and most importantly－was her left arm. Her uniform’s sleeve had been torn away at the shoulder, revealing pale skin and lightly toned muscle, but just above the elbow that cream color changed sharply into a violent mix of red and black. It might have been mistaken for a bad burn at first, but a burn injury wouldn’t cause an arm to double, triple－no, _quadruple_ in size until her wrist was nearly as wide around as her waist. Nor would it have changed the tips of her fingers into enormous, pointed claws.

Somehow, this was a more shocking sight than anything else Alisha had encountered in this city so far. Perhaps it was the sharp contrast between the woman’s perfectly human face and her gross mutation; the former, at least, was the only reason Alisha spoke before firing.

“Freeze! Stay where you are!”

If the woman had the capacity to understand speech, she ignored it. She took a step forward, and then another, each movement odd and jerking. She couldn’t have weighed more than one-thirty－minus the huge arm－soaking wet, but every step seemed to shake the floor, too heavy for her slender frame.

Alisha shifted her footing slightly, taking aim at that dangerous-looking arm－and the woman moved. The gun went off but only struck air; in a blink and a blur she had leapt forward, her clawed hand drawn back over her shoulder－

 _“Move!”_ Alisha cried. She threw herself forward and under her, and not a second too soon judging by the loud crunch and shriek of a wooden desk being crushed. Stumbling but not falling, Alisha spun on her heel－relieved to see Sorey still beside her－and aimed at the woman’s back, before she could turn around, and squeezed the trigger.

But this shot also went wild, striking the wall above their attacker’s head. In disbelief Alisha’s eyes traced from her gun to her hand, down her wrist, to where Sorey’s fingers were wrapped tight around her arm and holding it aloft.

“Sorey!” she snapped. “What are you－?!”

The look he fixed her with was so intense that her words caught. It wasn’t an angry expression－it was distressed, anxious. His voice, however, was firm. “She’s not a zombie!”

Alisha continued to stare. Sorey didn’t back down.

The woman wasn’t waiting. She was slow to turn around, but then with a speed that didn’t at all match her previous awkward movements, she lunged at them again. Sorey let go of Alisha’s arm, but too late for her to get her sights up. She dodged left and heard the air whistle as the clawed hand swung and barely missed her head.

Stumbling back, Alisha took aim. Sorey was right－she was no zombie－but she was still hostile, and something less than human. If someone had to live with that nagging doubt afterwards, Alisha would do it. She couldn’t risk their safety on sentiment.

The woman turned towards her－again, slowly, despite how fast she could move in a straight line－which meant she turned her back on Sorey. His reaction time was impressive, his choice of action reckless: he slammed into her from behind, sliding his arms under hers and up over her shoulders to clasp his hands behind her neck, holding her in place.

For a moment it looked like a smart move, since he surely outmatched her in raw strength－but something in her face changed, her bright eyes glinting as the first hint of emotion rippled in her expression.

Rage.

With a snarling shriek that was just as much of an animal cry as it was human frustration, she bent her knees and threw herself forward, twisting hard in the air so that Sorey was on the bottom when they landed. The force of her weight broke his grip and she tore free. No longer slow, she whirled around and jabbed a knee into his stomach as she crouched on top of him.

Before she could ready for another swing, Alisha aimed for the middle of her chest, the safest and surest shot－but in the second between choosing her mark and pulling the trigger, those golden eyes moved instantly from Sorey’s face to hers. The clawed hand blurred as the shot went off.

For a moment everything was still. Alisha stared at the smoking hole in the back of the woman’s misshapen hand－as well as the glint of metal inside it. The bullet had barely punctured the skin. There was no blood, no recoil indicating pain.

She hardly had any time to be shocked: forgetting Sorey entirely, the woman jumped off of him and at Alisha, her face contorted with fury. Again Alisha fired, again that arm swept between them as a shield, impossibly fast. She backed into the hallway, slipping on the rain-soaked floor and only just moving aside as her opponent swung down. Those claws raked across the wall, cutting through plaster and piping like butter.

_Too tight－we need more space to fight her－_

Alisha glanced down the hall, back towards the shower room. None of the corpses had risen; it was still clear.

She turned back and fired again, doing as much as damage as her last two attempts. The woman swung; Alisha moved too fast and her feet slipped out from under her. Pain shot up her elbows as she landed on them, but she bit back her voice and rolled to the side. Claws punctured the floor. She came out of the roll with a solid kick to her enemy’s knee, which only seemed to anger her more. Alisha shot at her again, sloppy and probably missing, but it bought her the second needed to scramble to her feet.

If nothing else, she could indulge in some cat-and-mouse－keep the woman’s attention off of Sorey and give him time to－

 _“Hey!”_ Sorey called.

Alisha nearly swore in frustration as he appeared in what used to be the office doorway. He hurled something at the back of the woman’s head, but she also turned, and just like with the bullets her hand rose to intercept it, claws closing tight around the red cylinder－

The explosion made Alisha’s ears pop. Coolant gushed out of the fire extinguisher and clouded the corridor, obscuring friend and foe alike. When a hand snatched her wrist she started to recoil－but then Sorey was beside her, hurrying past and pulling her along after him.

 _Did he do that on purpose?_ she wondered, but her curiosity took a backseat as she heard the extinguisher hit the floor with a _clunk_. They ran through the showers, the locker rooms, and into the hall beyond, all while jarring crashes followed in their wake. It sounded like the woman was tearing down the walls as she went. Perhaps she was.

“Sorey,” Alisha panted under her breath as they descended a set of stairs, “we can’t－she’s too fast－”

“Just keep going,” he hissed back, but when they reached the bottom Alisha pulled him to a hard halt. He looked at her like she was crazy. “C’mon－”

“You go,” she said quickly. “I’ll keep her busy.”

“What? No－”

Another crash, right overhead. Alisha seized a fistful of his jacket and hauled him towards the space under the stairs, all but shoving him into the pile of cardboard boxes stored there. It was barely roomy enough for one person. “Find the key,” she breathed. “I’ll meet you when it’s safe.”

“But－!”

She withdrew before he could argue, waving her arm wildly as their pursuer started down the stairs. Those amber eyes locked onto her. In a heartbeat the woman leapt over the railing, landing on the carpet with a wall-shaking _thump_ , but Alisha was already tearing down the hall, silently praying that Sorey would do as told.

She rounded the corner and saw a zombie up ahead. She ducked under its grasp and came up behind it, and then gave it a hard kick in the back as the woman appeared.

The stranger didn’t hesitate: one second the zombie was lunging eagerly for her, arms outstretched, and the next it was suspended in the air, held high in her clawed fingers. It groaned and wriggled lazily, but the woman’s blank eyes trailed slowly from her catch to Alisha. Without breaking eye contact－without blinking－she clenched her enormous fist.

There was a terrible _snap_ of bones and vertebrae breaking. The zombie went limp as his nervous system was likely paralyzed, but not before blood erupted from his eyes and mouth－ _violently_ , splattering the woman’s hair and face, but she still didn’t react.

That disinterested, bloodstained stare was even worse than the anger from before, or the blank slate of a face she’d first worn. This was cold and calculating, as if she were debating doing the same thing to Alisha.

Never before had Alisha used the word _demonic_ to describe anyone, but in that instant, it was the only fitting description that came to mind. That icy glare spoke of nothing but chilling apathy and indiscriminate slaughter. If that couldn’t be called a demon’s gaze, nothing could.

It was too late to do anything else. Alisha turned and ran.


End file.
